


Would You Let Me Finish My Sentence?!

by jadore_hale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Artist Derek, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Break-up/Make-up, Childhood Friends, Derek and Jackson Are Besties, Hipster Stiles, Jock Derek, M/M, Minor Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski, Misunderstandings, Pining Derek, Prom, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Derek, werewolves are unknown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14003802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadore_hale/pseuds/jadore_hale
Summary: Freshman year, he’d gone Goth. Sophomore year, he was Emo. Junior year, he hung with the stoners. And now that he’d turned 18, he was littered in tattoos and piercings. But no matter how much he transformed himself, he was still the same Stiles Stilinski that Derek had loved since the third grade. He was still the same Stiles Stilinski that had broken his heart.





	Would You Let Me Finish My Sentence?!

**Author's Note:**

> There's a village to credit for this one. So many beautiful helpful souls in this fandom! Credit to [iamonlydancing](http://iamonlydancing.tumblr.com) who's experiences with a good and bad collaboration got incorporated into the fic. Many thanks to Sixspades for all the detailed art information they provided thus making the research lighter for me. Shout out to the fab Becka, Shabeleys, and [Savannah](%E2%80%9Chalesstiles%E2%80%9D) for the feedback and brainstorming. Smooches to Hosio for helping me come up with an art project. And lastly, thank you to my loves Meg and Xandra for being there to read parts and helping me with the accuracy and realism!

The bell rung just as Derek was making his way into his favorite class of the day. For Derek, waiting until last period for Ms. Morell’s Advanced Drawing and Painting class was a torturous experience. The class was the highlight of his afternoon. Ms. Morell was one of his favorite teachers and he owed a lot to her. Over the course of four years, she’d managed to help him blossom from a hopeless amateur that could barely draw stick figures into something decent enough to get accepted to a great college art program. He still felt that he wasn’t all that talented. Thankfully, Ms. Morell’s class was extremely demanding and gave him the opportunity to work on skills he knew he would need in the fall.  
   
Except that, none of that was the _real_ reason why Derek loved Ms. Morell’s Advanced Drawing and Painting class so much.

Derek no longer had shame. No, shame was something he’d given up a while ago; back when he used to pretend that Stiles’ scent wasn’t the most intoxicating thing in the world to him. It was honestly a struggle to get any work done in class. So, naturally, Derek had given up. Now, he spent entire class periods staring at the side of Stiles Stilinski’s head, wishing that everything could be different.  
   
See, Stiles had always had a passion for the arts and Derek had always had a passion for Stiles. They’d been the best of friends as kids. Inseparable to the point where their school psychologist had sat them down because she was worried about them not making other friends. Derek truly felt Stiles was his mate, even though his mother kept telling him that werewolves didn’t have mates, and that he needed to stop watching so much damn _Animal Planet_. But wolves and werewolves were close relatives, right? Most people didn’t believe in werewolves to begin with, so how far of a stretch could it be for Derek to have a mate? And while it hurt that the boy he’d known his entire childhood wanted nothing to do with him anymore, something deep down inside of him refused to let Stiles go.  
   
Freshman year, he’d gone Goth. Sophomore year, he was Emo. Junior year, he hung with the stoners. And now that he’d turned 18, he was littered in tattoos and piercings. But no matter how much he transformed himself, he was still the same Stiles Stilinski that Derek had loved since the third grade. He was still the same Stiles Stilinski that had broken his heart.

“Derek… did you hear me?” 

The snickering and laughter of his classmates pulled him out of his Stiles-centered stupor. His attention snapped to the front of the room. He realized that they were already fifteen minutes into the start of the period and Derek was the only student who didn’t have his supplies out yet. God, he was _hopeless_.

“I was saying that our last project for the year is going to be a collaborative effort,” Ms. Morell relayed, giving him one of her more indulgent smiles.

He nodded and tried harder to listen this time. It could be important to know all the details of the project. Derek abhorred partner work and would much rather do it all on his own, but with graduation nearing, it couldn’t be too complex. His gaze gradually slid back over to Stiles, whose long fingers were drumming against the wooden tabletop, tapping out a specific beat. It was probably from one of those obscure punk rock bands he liked to listen to. 

They didn’t have much in common anymore. Growing up, they talked about everything; from comic book superheroes to Derek’s parent’s messy divorce to Stiles’ mom's illness. Conversation had been easier for him then. He’d never been good with people and wasn’t a big talker but Stiles had a certain way of knowing exactly what he was about to say just before he could say it. They were completely different people now. Derek was a popular jock and Stiles had his own group of artsy hipster friends he typically loitered with.  
   
Derek was debating with himself about which of Stiles’ many piercings was his favorite—going back and forth between the snake bites under his plush lips or the curved barbell above his right eyebrow that quirked so brazenly when he was mischievous—when he felt multiple eyes on him again. Derek jerked and almost fell off his chair before quickly catching himself, face heating up as everyone started giggling again. _Shit_ , even Stiles was looking at him unimpressed. Derek was losing all semblance of cool.  
   
“Were you listening, Derek?” Ms. Morell asked, speaking louder than necessary like he was an eighty-year-old man. “You’re paired with Stiles. Is that alright?”  
   
Derek basically ceased all breathing and stammered in a high-pitched squeak, “Uh. Um. Yeah. Sure. That’s—That’s—Yeah, alright.”   
   
Alright? Alright! This was _the best_ thing that had happened to him _ever_. Screw winning Lacrosse State Championships last year. This was _it_! The window he’d been looking for!

See, Stiles took school very seriously, and sadly for his mother, Derek did not. Stiles was in all honors and AP classes and Derek lacked the grades for them to be able to share any classes together. Which was why Derek decided to rigorously hone in on his craft as an artist, knowing Ms. Morell’s art class was the only way he would be able to see Stiles every day.

Getting to work with Stiles was an absolute dream, but it was also kind of his worst nightmare. What if this went like his _last_ collaborative project? He’d been paired with Greenberg which was already bad enough. The assignment called for them to swap projects after a few weeks, taking the other's work to make one final piece. But for some unbeknownst reason, Greenberg had given him a dozen sketches of unicorns which was how Derek discovered that Greenberg was a huge _My Little Pony_ fan. Derek had chopped up all the pictures to make a collage. It was about as creative as he could get with the source material. When he presented it to the class, Greenberg had dashed out of the room, sobbing for his poor chopped up ponies. Miraculously, Derek had gotten a good grade.  
   
On the other hand, Derek had sent Greenberg a beautiful artistic video, only for Greenberg to overlay the track with loud dubstep music and do some weird interpretive dance that _no one_ in the room enjoyed. Not only was it a massive cringe-fest, but it also pissed Derek off so much that he wasn’t sure he and Greenberg could even play on the same lacrosse team together. As co-captain, Derek would’ve _totally_ kicked him off even if it risked losing a few games.  
   
For the rest of the period, Ms. Morell answered question after question until no one else could raise their hand, then said, “We have some time before class ends, so you should meet with your partners and start brainstorming ideas before you go.” She looked over at Derek and winked. “Good luck at the game tonight, Derek. Hope you’re more alert when you play than you are in my class.”  
   
Derek sank down in his chair and groaned as the room started sniggering again. He told himself that he’d be more inconspicuous next time but knew that was bullshit. He couldn't be more obvious about his crush on Stiles if he tried. The whole school knew. It was why Derek had never seriously considered dating anyone else. As pathetic as it sounded, he was _saving_ himself for Stiles, hopeful that they would work things out and end up together someday.  
   
Hastily, he collected his stuff and stood, bracing himself for the onslaught of Stiles’ scent. When they were kids, Derek used to bury his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck, desperate to get as close to that warm citrus and amber scent as he could. That scent had matured now, adding a rich woody element that Derek was dying to roll around in.  

“Um, hey,” Derek said as he plopped down in the seat next to Stiles and gave him an awkward wave. Stiles had missed the wave though, too preoccupied with his sketching. “So I was thinking of a few ideas, and I thought maybe we could—” 

“It’s cool. I can do the entire thing myself,” Stiles cut him off, snapping his sketchbook shut. “You’re probably too busy with lacrosse or whatever jock thing it is that you do. And it’s not like you actually give a shit about this class since you never pay attention or do any work. And since I’d like a good grade on this, I’m going to go ahead with my ideas while you dick around. ‘Kay? Nice talk.”   
   
Stiles picked up his things and was out the door before Derek could even open his mouth to give a retort. Derek bit his bottom lip, grinning a little to himself. He should’ve expected as much from Stiles. It was just like when they were kids. God forbid, Stiles ever let him finish a fucking sentence.

* * *

For Derek, there was no getting past the day that Claudia Stilinski died. He was sure there was no getting past that day for Stiles, either.  In his psychology class, he’d learned that it was called a flashbulb memory—retaining every vivid detail and having it seared into your brain for life.  He’d watched the spirit of his friend wither away that day and retreat into a bleak state. Derek had been so scared Stiles would never come back. And he was right. That day changed everything.

   
“He’s your best friend,” Talia nudged him gently. “You should talk to him.”  
   
They were watching Stiles from the window as he sat outside on the tree swing alone. Stiles had isolated himself from the rest of the mourners who’d come to the house after the funeral. Claudia Stilinski’s funeral had been a lively and upbeat affair, unlike most funerals Derek had been to. They all knew that Claudia would have wanted her life to be celebrated. She’d always been so silly and liked to clown around. Derek was going to miss her a lot, but nowhere near as much as Stiles would. If only Derek could reach out and take his hand and drain all that pain away, but werewolf powers wouldn’t work in this case.  
   
“I—I don’t know what to say.” Derek stared at Stiles’ hunched over form, not missing the way his shoulders shook as he sobbed. “What do people say when something like this happens?”  
   
After all, Claudia had been sick for a very long time. Almost as long as Derek had known Stiles. Still, Stiles didn’t deserve this. No one did. Derek had prayed and hoped she would get better. Her strength had absolutely marveled him. And so, while he knew her death was a possibility, he still hadn’t seen it coming. No one was prepared.  
   
This was supposed to be a great summer. _The summer._ The one between eighth grade and freshman year of high school where they’d tuck away the last bits of childhood and move forward into adolescence to become real teenagers. Derek couldn’t imagine what losing a mother at such a crucial time would be like and he wanted to get this right. He wanted to help Stiles heal.     
   
“They comfort each other and offer support,” Talia told him, patting him on the shoulder and flashing an encouraging smile. “He’s hurting and you just have to be there for him. Do you think you could do that?”  
   
Derek nodded, the spit in his mouth too thick to swallow. He took a deep breath, puffing his chest out, then opened the back door and stepped outside. The backyard didn’t feel like the same backyard he’d grown up in. The one he and Stiles would run around and play hide-and-seek while their moms watched them from the patio drinking lemonade. The grass and the trees seemed to have lost their color. Everything had turned so dull and gray. And right there in the middle of it all was Stiles.  
   
Faltering, Derek found himself rooted in place, completely unable to take another step. He couldn’t take seeing Stiles like this. His heart couldn’t handle it. But Derek had to listen to his mother’s advice even if it was hard. Stiles had always done the talking but there was never a more important time than now for Derek to use his words.

* * *

“Wow, you look like shit!” ‘Twas the ever so pleasant greeting Derek got from Jackson Monday morning.

“You’re one to talk,” Derek shot back, opening his locker to grab a textbook he needed for first period. “You don’t look so suave with that black eye you’re sporting either, Fabio.”

Though a crushing blow to his vanity, Jackson was right about Derek not looking so hot. Mondays weren’t exactly anyone’s favorite day of the week, and contrary to popular belief, werewolves weren’t exempt from under eye circles. He was truly exhausted. He’d barely slept all weekend, too stressed out about this project with Stiles. He figured if he came up with an awesome idea, Stiles would _have to_ take him seriously and let him help with the assignment.

He was finding it immensely difficult to come up with an idea that would _really_ impress an incredible artist like Stiles. Derek hadn’t been at this long enough to have the gift and imagination that Stiles did. Sure, he had decent ideas, but the fact remained that he’d only learned how to draw _for_ Stiles. To get this good this fast required a solid focus on the technical aspects only rather than the soulful ones.

Being a werewolf gave him heightened senses which made him rather keen on intricate details. He drew exactly as he saw and didn’t really experiment or stray from his perfected style. However, while he took immense pride in his works, his style was _so_ so different from Stiles’ more inventive one. Derek wanted nothing more than to see how the two would mesh.

Jackson pulled out a makeup compact from his backpack and applied concealer to his visibly bruised skin. He griped, “Not all of us can be as robust as the almighty Derek Hale. Friday’s game got ugly. Those assholes were trying to kill us and I could’ve sworn that big guy broke your leg in half!”

He had. In multiple places. Had Derek been human, it probably would’ve been a career-ending injury.

“Oh, look! Here comes Braeden!” Jackson jabbed an elbow into Derek’s ribs repeatedly until Derek rammed an elbow back in retaliation.

“Hi, boys!” Braeden smiled as she walked past, her deep brown eyes mainly on Derek despite Jackson standing right next to him. “Great game on Friday, Derek!”

“Er… thanks,” Derek gave her a thumbs-up, moronically calling out, “Good. Um. Cheerleading thing...Yeah!”

This was exactly why Derek hadn’t wooed Stiles yet. No matter how many lessons he got from Laura, he would never understand flirting.

“Cheerleading thing?” Jackson teased. “Oh, boy. You’re lucky you’re pretty. So, when are you gonna forget about your Creepy Little Goth Boyfriend and ask Braeden to prom.”

Derek sighed. “For the millionth time, I am _not_ going to prom.”

After winning Homecoming King and Queen earlier in the school year, it seemed like everyone expected him and Braeden to start dating. Sure, Braeden was pretty and sweet but the popular jock/head cheerleader-thing was too cliché for Derek’s tastes. He preferred someone with a little more edge. _Wink, wink._

There’d been other girls with crushes on him in the past. Sophomore year there’d been Kate Argent, a senior girl who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. Then last year, there was that psycho chick, Jennifer Blake, who claimed she was a powerful sorceress who could cast a spell on him that would make him want her. And while Derek had fully embraced his bisexuality at a young age and was consistently attracted to both males and females in equal amounts, he held off on reciprocating any romantic feelings and tried his hardest not to lead anyone on.  

“Let’s not pretend like we both don’t already know who’s going to win this argument.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “You’re going to prom whether you like it or not. Boyd and I will just kidnap you and tie you up again. I think I still have more of that rope we used for homecoming.”

“Fine!” Derek snapped. He could’ve easily cut through those ropes with his claws but hadn’t wanted to raise unnecessary suspicion.  “I’ll go to prom but I won’t be taking anyone.”

Jackson shook his head disapprovingly and exhaled, “As your best bud…” he started then grimaced, “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this. But as your best bud, I think it’s time you worked up the courage to ask your Satan-Worshipping Stoner Crush to prom.”

“Jackson, you’ve known Stiles even longer than I have. Why not bypass the mouthful and use his real name?”  

“Which is what? Gerard Way?” Jackson joked.  

“He’s not emo anymore!” Derek defended, “He’s more alternative tattooed hipster. Er…I’m pretty sure the beanies, plaid, and longboarding mean he’s evolving into a hipster. When we’re friends again, I’ll let you know for sure.”

“Friends again?” Jackson quirked a brow.

Derek blushed then ducked his head as he pulled his sketchbook from his locker. He handed it to Jackson. “We’re doing a partner project for Ms. Morell’s class. Maybe while we’re working together, we could reconnect and develop into something more. I mean I’m not ugly, right?” he paused waiting for Jackson’s input. “ _Right?!_ ”

Jackson hummed, flipping through the drawings. “Next to me, you’re a solid nine out of ten.”

Derek wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, suddenly anxious. “I mean, there’s a possibility he could’ve forgotten about my unibrow in middle school to see me as sexually attractive, right? And I think my art’s gotten good enough to show him. This is my only chance to really go for it.”

Jackson handed back the sketchbook and clapped him on the back. “You’ve come a long way from drawing dicks freshman year, my friend.”

“They were lily flowers! Insinuate otherwise one more time and _you are dead to me!_ ”

“But seriously, is Stilinski really worth all this trouble?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah.” Derek nodded. “Yeah, he really is.”

* * *

“Hey, Huggies!!”

Derek stiffened, almost crushing the milk carton in his hand as Jackson Whittemore sneered at him from across the cafeteria. Huggies was _not_ his name. His name was Derek Andrew Hale, and just because he happened to have peed his pants on the first day at a new school didn’t mean he deserved to be bullied for the rest of the week by the meanest kid in all of the 3rd grade!

It wasn’t his fault he’d peed his pants. It was natures! How could he have known where all the bathrooms were? The school map was ridiculously confusing and he’d been too shy to ask a grown-up. So, when Mr. Harris made him stand in front of the entire classroom and introduce himself to everyone, well…his weak bladder had failed him.

Everyone just stared at first and then they all began to point and laugh while Derek fled the room. The nurse made him change into a pair of sweats from the Lost & Found. They were dry but too short for his legs. He looked like the biggest dork in the world walking around in high-waters. He hoped that the awful incident could be contained to just Mr. Harris’s class, but by the end of the day the whole school knew.

Thus, he became a social pariah. He was sure he’d never be able to make any friends. The kids on the bus _tormented_ him. He spent every lunch and recess alone. There were no opportunities to meet anyone nice or friendly, and he could tell that his fellow outcasts felt sorry for him but didn’t want to make themselves a target by associating themselves with him.

He begged his mom to let him drop out of school. Home-schooling was all the rage nowadays, and what did he _really_ need a 3rd-grade education for? With all the chores he did around the house, he could make a decent living. He even wrote a letter to Congress asking them to get rid of every elementary school in America because kids are stinkin’ _evil._ Of course, he hadn’t heard anything back yet. Those politicians in Washington never got anything done.

“Did mommy put your pampers on today, Pee Boy?” Jackson walked over to his table because yelling jeers out across the cafeteria for the whole school to hear wasn’t bad enough. “I bet you wet the bed last night. Bet your mom bought you plastic sheets because you couldn’t hold it in.”

Jackson took the carton of milk out of Derek’s hand and hovered it over his lunch tray. With a sinister smile, he started pouring milk all over Derek’s food, effectively ruining _Mozzarella Sticks Monday_ for him forever. He didn’t have money to get another tray, but his appetite was already ruined. Jackson had the whole cafeteria chanting Huggies and Pee Boy, and Derek just wanted to punch him. A kid could only take so much.

The chanting was getting louder, but the lunch monitors didn’t seem like they were going to step in anytime soon. Derek had always had a quick temper and getting angry now with everyone staring could make him lose control of his shift. Then again, if he didn’t defend himself to these _vultures disguised as innocent school children,_ they might start calling him a coward too. He didn’t need any more names! Derek Andrew Hale was fine enough!

“You hear that, Huggies?” Jackson leaned close and heckled in his face. “They all know you’re a freak!”

“That’s it! Everyone leave him alone!”

It was then that a hero appeared, roller-skating into the ruckus on his light-up Heely sneakers which left skid marks on the floor behind him. The whole cafeteria whispered amongst themselves as the mysterious kid in the red hoodie came to save the day. He braked his shoes and hopped up onto the cafeteria table, grabbing Jackson by his collar and punching him square in the face.

Everyone collectively gasped then snickered when the boy pulled Jackson in nose to nose since it looked like they were about to kiss. But there was no love being passed around here.

“Listen, you jerk! Why don’t you _fuck off_ before I give you another black eye to match the first! If I ever see you talking to him again, I’ll have my dad, _the Sheriff,_ throw you in jail! And trust me, my dad hates bullies just as much as I do!”

Derek could not _believe_ what was happening before his eyes. Jackson was actually shaking and looked terrified as the kid in the red hoodie glared at him, daring him to say anything else that was mean. Jackson’s covered the eye the kid had punched with his hand, his lower lip wobbling before he completely burst into loud, weeping tears.

Jackson ran out of the cafeteria as everyone clapped and cheered for the kid in the red hoodie who bowed and waved. He hopped down from the table and fell into the seat next to Derek.

“Don’t worry, dude,” he reassured, “Crying is so much worse than peeing your pants.”

Derek winced, knowing he would never get over the embarrassment. Not as long as he lived. But if Jackson and the other kids didn’t bother him anymore, he was okay with fading into obscurity and being that loser in the corner with no friends.

“I fibbed a little,” the kid confessed. “My dad wouldn’t really throw an 8-year-old in jail. But I wish he could because Jackson’s the worst. Someone was bound to punch that idiot. It might as well have been me.”

“Weren’t you scared that you would get in trouble?” Derek asked. He hadn’t spoken to a single person all day and his voice cracked a little now that he was using it again. “You dropped a _major_ curse word.”

“What does it matter to me? I get in trouble all the time.” The kid shrugged and opened his backpack, rustling through the unorganized mess before pulling out an awesome holographic Star Wars lunch box. He pushed Derek’s old lunch to the side and handed him a sandwich and chips. “My mom always packs me seconds because she says I eat like I’m starving.”

“Thanks,” Derek mumbled, unwrapping the foil and taking a bite.

He wasn’t too hungry after all that had transpired, but this could potentially be a new friend for him and he didn’t want to mess that up. Not when the kid had punched Jackson _and_ offered to share his lunch. Having no friends at school was definitely taking a toll on him. At his last school, he had a bunch of friends. Werewolf friends who he could roughhouse and roll around within their shifted forms. He knew it was a lot harder to make human friends but he wanted to try.

“You’re Derek right?” The kid asked with a mouthful of Doritos, spitting bits everywhere. “My dad said your family just moved to the preserve. I think it’s cool that you live in the woods! My parents and I used to go camping a lot. You and I should totally go camping sometime! And make s’mores! I’m the best at making s’mores!”

The move to Beacon Hills had been pretty devastating for Derek. He’d loved his old house and had never wanted to leave. But his parents had gotten divorced and his mom didn’t have much money, so they had to relocate to the old, rickety house the family owned. Laura and Cora loved their new house because it was huge and they wouldn’t have to share a room. But Derek hated that everything was changing. He understood that his parents both loved him and that the reason they split up was because they didn’t want to fight with each other anymore, but he couldn’t help missing his old life.

The kid pinched his side making Derek jump in his seat. “C’mon. I’m doing my best to cheer you up here. You’ve gotta help me! I’m so good at cheering people up. Like the best. I tickle them and annoy them until they have to smile.”

He did just that, wiggling his fingers into Derek’s sides until Derek was in a fit of hysterical giggles as he struggled to get away. This was the biggest smile he’d had since the move, so maybe the kid was right about his gift for lifting people’s spirits.

“Now, don’t worry about Jackson. He’s a bully and I won’t let him bother you again.” The kid dug around in his backpack until he pulled out a book. “What’s your favorite animal? I’m learning how to draw animals for this art program I go to after school. I started going because my doctor said it might help with my ADHD but now it’s just for fun. It’s also where I developed my potty mouth. It’s hard not to curse when you fudge something up.”

“Um…” Derek fidgeted, taking a second to think. “I love wolves.”

“Wolves?” The kid eyes lit up as he picked up his pencil. “This’ll be awesome!”

Derek watched the kid draw while he ate the rest of his lunch, happy to be hating his life a little less. It’d probably shock his mom later when he told her he’d had a somewhat good day at school. Because seeing Jackson get punched in the face might as well have been Christmas.

The kid was very focused on his work, tongue sticking out as he sketched. When he looked up and caught Derek peeking, he scowled and hid his sketching so Derek couldn’t see. Once lunch was over and he seemed satisfied with his work, he tore the page from the book, holding it out to Derek.

“Sorry, if he’s a little cross-eyed,” he said. “I’ve seriously gotta practice more.”

“It’s amazing,” Derek gasped. Because it was. Sure, the eyes were more than crisscrossed and the wolf’s snout sort of looked like a duckbill, but it was the little scribble in the corner of the page, _To: Derek. Love Stiles_ , that made Derek know he would cherish this image forever.  

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Stiles beamed then stuffed his book and supplies back into his backpack and scrambled out of his seat. “I’ve got to go line-up with my class, but we’ll sit together at lunch tomorrow, right? Since we’re best friends now?

“Yeah.” Derek smiled and nodded, immensely relieved that he wouldn’t have to sit alone at lunch anymore. “Definitely best friends.”

“Cool!” Stiles shot him two-thumbs up and started running a little before he kicked his Heely sneakers into gear and rolled away. Having a new best friend like Stiles was going to be a blast!

* * *

That afternoon, Derek made sure to get to class super early. He took a seat at Stiles’ usual table and went over a little speech he’d prepared in his head. He was determined not to let Stiles bulldoze over him this time. Verbal sparring might never be his forte but he was desperate to work on this collaboration with Stiles and refused to give up just because Stiles doubted his work ethic.

He fretted over his sketches one last time, uncertainty and confidence muddling themselves in his head and making it difficult to decipher exactly what he was feeling right now. His heart was beating so fast, pumped full of so much adrenaline he thought he might have a heart attack. Still, he needed to be ready for this.

As soon as Stiles walked into the room, Derek armed himself for battle. “So my ideas—”

“I thought we talked about this.” Stiles sighed.

“It was more like you talked and barely considered anything that I have to say,” Derek corrected. “Like you’ve always done.”

Stiles sat down in the seat across from him and rolled his eyes. “I took the go-ahead, that you’re not really the expert in this situation.”

Derek winced. “Okay. I admit that I will never be as good as you, but I want to help with the project.”

“You. Have. No. Time,” Stiles said peeved.

“I’m free after practice,” Derek tried. He was always dog-tired after training but he’d manage. “And I’ve got some time on weekends.”

“Well, I’m not free in the evenings and my schedule’s crammed on the weekends,” Stiles lied, turning away from Derek to pull out his art supplies.

Derek would not get discouraged. He _couldn’t_ get discouraged. This was too important. And not just for the reason that Stiles was single-handedly the greatest love of his life, but also because this opportunity could only make him an even better artist. The chance to see how his and Stiles’ ideas meshed on a creative platform and finding a way to combine both their styles without compromising each other’s artistic vision would be too cool. Even if, by the time the project ended, their friendship hadn’t patched up in the way Derek hoped, he’d at least walk away with something and that prospect was extremely desirable to him.

“Bullshit. Take a look at my ideas.” Derek slammed his sketchbook onto the table with a page open.

“No,” Stiles said, obstinately keeping his eyes away as he unpacked his things.

“Glad to see you’re still stubborn.”

“Glad to see you’re still an ass.”

“Would you just look at them?” Derek all but pleaded. He didn’t want it to come to him shoving the book in Stiles’ face.

“No,” Stiles refused again. “I already decided where I’m going with this project, so feel free to stop talking to me now.”

The bell rung and class began, giving Derek no chance to say anything else. Ms. Morell stood in front of the class, talking about what they’d be doing for the period which was basically talking some more with their partners and figuring out what tasks to assign to keep communication open. He sure wished Stiles would talk to him. Give him a reason as to why he didn’t want Derek in his life anymore.

Their relationship hadn’t severed because of a fight or becoming distant or any of those things. One day they’d been glued at the hip and the next, Stiles hated his guts. He’d examined over and over in his head what he could’ve done or said to have someone so close to him suddenly despise his very existence. But every time he searched, he came back with nothing, only the amazing memories of what they were and how badly he wanted that back.  
                                
He reached out to grab his rejected sketchbook since Stiles obviously wasn’t going to concede today. But Derek would try again tomorrow. Wear him down gradually. For now, he would work on rounding out his ideas and get some insight from Ms. Morell after class about how he could improve them.

As he was pulling his sketchbook back, a hand shot out and stopped him. “Who did this?” Stiles asked him, eyes scrutinizing the page. He looked up at Derek and snapped, “You gonna tell me or what?”

“I did,” Derek admitted and couldn’t help but blush.

Stiles scoffed then tugged at the book until Derek let go. He thumbed through the pages slowly, really taking in the details. Derek felt the tips of his ears burn and hoped Stiles couldn’t see him sweating. It wasn’t like he had anything embarrassing in there. No creepy sketches of Stiles or anything. But he felt vulnerable having someone else besides Ms. Morell look at his stuff. Like he was naked.

Stiles stopped on a sketch he’d done of Cora with that ugly face she made when she cried and threw his head back, barking out a laugh. It didn’t sound demeaning or mocking, so Derek sighed in relief.

“Holy shit, dude! When did you learn how to _Art™_?” Stiles asked, looking up at him briefly while he continued to flipped from page to page.

“It’s been a couple of years and Ms. Morell helped a lot. Someone once told me ‘It’s all about practice.’” Derek winked.

Stiles’ happy smile fell, turning into a more professional one. He flipped back to the first sketch and said, “I can work with this.”

“And you’re gonna let me help you,” Derek pressed.

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Stiles resisted.

“I’m coming to your house today after practice. If you’re not there, I know how to jimmy the lock to your window.”

“I got that fixed ages ago!”

“Then is the key to the back door still under the turtle statue?”

“No.”

Derek cocked his head just in time to hear the skip in his heartbeat and smirked. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Fine,” Stiles huffed. “No need to be a creeper. You can use the front door.”

“Good.” Derek didn’t need a mirror to know that he was beaming.

“Good,” Stiles said back. “Now shut up.”

Derek did so happily with a smile.

* * *

It was serious business turning another year older. Derek was in the 4th grade and turning 10, which meant he couldn’t be doing the same things he’d been doing while he was 9. He’d already told his mom to give away all his toys and trade them in for a briefcase so he could go out and join the workforce to provide for the family. He wasn’t “a baby” anymore and didn’t expect to be treated as such. He was a double-digit now. Basically a grown-up!

Which was why he was unbelievably offended that Talia Hale _(he could call her by her first name now that he was 10)_ had the audacity to throw him a stupid kiddie 10th birthday party.

There was a bounce castle, a piñata, a _pony_ , all things Derek might’ve appreciated when he was 9, but was no longer impressed by as a 10-year-old. If anything, his party should’ve been hosted at a strip club; that was much more age-appropriate.

Unfortunately, Talia would probably always see him as a child as most mothers did with their offspring. Derek would just have to suffer the humiliation of her failed party planning. Which would’ve been fine if it was just close friends and family, however Talia _(he could really get used to calling her that now that he was thinking of disowning her)_ had invited the _entire_ school. She’d even invited _Jackson Whittemore_ , his former tormentor, and the meanest kid ever, to _his house_. Talk about a woman without a clue.

His only saving grace was that Stiles would be there. They were the best of friends now, and everyone knew that they were a package deal. No guest would be more important to Derek at his 10th birthday party than Stiles. However, it was kind of hard to be a package deal when part of that package was two hours late.

Derek had held out as long as he could before his mom _(apparently there would never be an age where it was appropriate for him to call her Talia)_ had forced him to play with the other kids. It wasn’t much fun at first until Liam and Theo, the pre-school sweethearts, had suggested they all play Capture-the-Flag. Derek was so engrossed in the fun that he completely missed Stiles’ arrival with his mom, certainly more than a little fashionably late.

"Hey-O, birthday boy!" Stiles shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth so his voice projected loudly across the backyard.

Derek whipped his head around, a grin stretching across his face as Stiles waved at him like a loon. He asked the other kids to put the game in time-out and jogged over to Stiles and his mom.

“So sorry we’re late,” Stiles said as Derek wrapped him up in a big hug. “It’s all my mom’s fault. She spent _way_ too much time doing her makeup.”

From behind them, Claudia Stilinski pointedly cleared her throat. “Well, maybe if someone didn’t take the better part of an hour deciding which light up sneakers they wanted to wear to the party, we would’ve been here at least close to on time.”

Stiles scowled at her and proudly lifted his chin. “Basically, we Stilinski's always have to look good.”

“Here, here,” Claudia concurred, ruffling Stiles’ hair. She ruffled Derek’s as well, but unlike Stiles, Derek welcomed it and didn’t swat her hand away.

She wasn’t like any mom he’d ever met before. For starters, she was a lot younger than most of the moms in their grade. Even though telling a woman’s age was a _big no no_ , Stiles went around telling people his mom was twenty-nine and that his existence was due to a birth control failure during his parents’ freshman year of college.

Claudia was a lot like her son in many aspects. She was loud and talkative, always so cheerful and vibrant. It was like she radiated sunshine. And she could do an awesome backflip! Even without a trampoline! Derek was eager to introduce her to his mom finally, though he wasn’t sure how they’d get along. Derek loved his mother to death but she definitely couldn’t do backflips.

There was no need for him to worry though. Because there was nothing that unified two moms who didn’t have a single thing in common better than complaining about how their kids never did any chores.

“It drives me nuts that Derek can’t even make his own bed in the morning!”

“I can’t get Stiles to iron a shirt if I tried. He’s perfectly content going out into the world as one big wrinkle!”

As the complaints got more and more exaggerated, Derek made the decision to tune them out. He looked over at Stiles, remembering the game he’d put on pause, and was about to ask Stiles if he wanted to play when he noticed Stiles’ staring off into the distance.

“Wow…you’re got a lot of presents,” Stiles said, eyeing the gift table.

Derek shrugged. “Well, my mom pretty much invited the whole school.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Claudia snapped her fingers and rifled through her purse. “Stiles, honey, don’t you want to give Derek his birthday present?”

Derek’s eyes rounded in excitement as she pulled out the small, poorly wrapped gift and held it out to Stiles.

“Later.” Stiles shook his head, much to Derek’s dismay.

Claudia returned the gift to her purse and went back to chatting with Talia, now bonding via sharing unbelievably embarrassing stories about their kids.

Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand, pulling him out of there as fast as he could before they encountered any major damage. “C’mon,” he said, “We’re all playing Capture-the-Flag.”

Stiles dug his heels into the ground and stopped when Derek tried to pull him along. “Capture-the-Flag?” he wrinkled his nose. “That’s kind of lame. How about you and I do something else?

“Like what?” Derek furrowed his brows.

“I don’t know,” Stiles puffed out his cheeks. “There’s got to be something cooler to do than Capture-the-Flag.”

Derek was torn as he looked back to where all the other kids were waiting. On the one hand, he never wanted Stiles to think he was uncool. On the other hand, he’d been having so fun with the other kids and wanted that fun to continue. He knew by now how difficult it was to convince Stiles to do something that he didn’t want to do, and he really didn’t want to let his teammates down.

“I’m kind of the captain.” Derek shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “They’re all waiting for me. Are you sure you don’t want to play? You could be my co-captain.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just sit here and watch from the sidelines.”

“You’re sure?” Derek asked again, searching Stiles’ face to see if he was mad.

“Totally.”

Derek’s team won over Jackson’s and they all celebrated by chanting and cheering. They carried Derek up to the gift table when his mom called that it was time to open presents. It took a while for everyone to settle down from the excitement and sit in a circle around Derek. He rolled his eyes when his mom reminded him to be thankful to everyone. _Yes_ , even Jackson. Derek knew how to say thank you and be grateful. He had manners. He hadn’t been raised in a barn.

Though, he wasn’t quite sure he could say the same for Stiles…

“Pfft. A Tamagotchi,” Stiles belittled. “Who wants to spend all day cleaning up poop? Do better next time.”

No gift was safe from Stiles’ harsh criticism.

“A razor scooter? Well, looks like someone’s got a lot of money and likes to rub it in people’s faces. Too bad Derek hates people with money.”

Every time Derek opened his mouth to say thank you, he was cut off by another one of Stiles’ rebuffs.

“A Superman action figure? How could you mess that up? Derek doesn’t like D.C Comics. He’s a Marvel guy!”

This certainly wasn’t the Stiles he knew. The Stiles he knew was a nice boy who’d never ridicule people.

“Woah, a Nintendo DS. Nice. Although, Jackson, you should’ve gotten it in blue. Derek hates the color yellow.”

It was like he was possessed.

“Gift card,” he yawned, “Lazy.”

A monster had completely replaced his friend.

“Homemade cookies. Now that’s just cheap. They look like the taste like—”

“Alright, Bitter Betsey,” Claudia interrupted, grabbing Stiles by the ear. “You’re coming with me.”

She dragged Stiles off and away from the group, which was probably a good thing because the other kids hadn’t taken too kindly to having their gifts being picked apart and looked about ready to take up pitchforks. Derek opened the last of his gifts and expressed his immense gratitude to all. When it looked like Stiles wasn’t going to make it back in time for the cake-cutting, Derek made sure to save him a huge slice. He was so relieved when Stiles returned, though with red puffy eyes.

“My mom says I have to say I’m sorry,” Stiles grumbled without looking at Derek, keeping his eyes on the grass.

“Okay,” Derek said simply, “Apologize to me by giving me my birthday present.”

“It really, really sucks.” Stiles kicked at the ground. “But if you want to wait until I can find something better…”

“No, I want whatever you got me today.”

“Fine,” Stiles said and released a breath. He pulled the gift from behind his back and handed it over to Derek, fidgeting the whole time Derek ripped through the paper. “It’s not as cool as all the other kids’ store-bought gifts or anything, but—”

“Wow!!” Derek gasped.

Stiles had used a ton of tape which made the gift super difficult to open. In fact, Derek had even contemplated using his claws. But when he pushed aside the paper to reveal the gold macaroni picture frame, his face broke out into the biggest smile he’d had all day.

“You made this?” Derek asked, amazed by all the intricate details. “Awesome!”

He laughed at the silly picture Stiles had picked where they’d taped up their noses with scotch tape. It was his favorite gift of the day, and he felt an overwhelming need to draw Stiles in for a hug. So he did.

“Thank you, Stiles. I love it!” He squeezed him tight and Stiles squeezed him right back. “But you know, you don’t have to get so jealous. This is exactly why we had to see the school psychologist.”

Stiles laughed and pinched him. “Are you insane! You’re the reason we had to see her!”

“No, you are!”

“No, you!”

He was sure they’d argue about this for years to come, but he also knew he would always cherish Stiles’ gift.

* * *

It was nerve-wracking being back at the Stilinski household. Vastly so. Derek couldn’t believe how terrified he was to knock on the door of a place he’d once considered his second home. In fact, he’d never actually needed to knock before. Stiles’ parents had always told him that they had no problem with him just walking in, and, of course, it’d been the same for Stiles at Derek’s house. But oh, how things had changed.

After practice, Derek raced over as fast as he could in his Camaro, wanting to spend as much time with Stiles as possible before his curfew. They had a lot of work to do, obviously, however Derek was hopeful it wouldn’t all be strictly business.

It wasn’t until he was climbing up the steps and knocking on the front door that he remembered Stiles’ father, John Stilinski. Growing up, John had shown him nothing but love and had even stepped into a fatherly role for Derek after things went south between Derek and his own dad, Matthias. However, Derek hadn’t spoken to John in _years_. Not since Stiles cut Derek out of his life. Who knew how John felt about him now.

It was just his luck that he was about to find out.

“…Oh,” was the first thing John uttered when he opened the door and saw Derek standing there on the stoop. “You’re not the pizza.”

John stood frozen for a moment and scratching his head, his expression one of disbelief. He looked stumped like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem or something. And while it was definitely awkward, it wasn’t as bad as Derek had originally thought.

“Hi, John.” Derek smiled shyly, feeling him out. “Or is it Sheriff Stilinski now?”

A grin spread across John’s face then and he opened his arms to Derek, enveloping him in a warm hug. His scent was still the same and it was like no time had passed at all. But most importantly, Derek would happily take this as a sign that John didn’t completely hate his guts.

“Derek, my boy!” John laughed, eyes sparkling as he spoke in a booming loud voice. He clapped Derek on the back and even picked him up and twirled him around. “How the heck have you been, kiddo? I heard from your mom how great you’re doing with lacrosse!”

Derek’s cheeks turned pink and he gave a dismissive wave. “You know my mom loves to exaggerate.”

John shook his head. “I’m sure you’re just being modest.” Then he was hugging Derek again, a little too hard this time because Derek kind of couldn’t breathe. “I’m so glad you decided to visit. Stiles is just up in his room.”

“Yeah, uh…” Derek glanced over at the staircase and swallowed. “We’re just doing an art project together.”

“Well, go right up,” John said encouragingly. “I don’t have to tell you where it is.”

“Right,” Derek exhaled and smiled when John gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

He took a deep breath and adjusted his backpack before starting up the steps. For the most part, the house still looked the same, just with new paint on the walls and some of the furniture having been rearranged. The one difference Derek noticed was the increase in pictures of Claudia. He stopped to admire one, realizing how much he missed her and wondering if she could’ve helped him figure out her son.

Stiles’ bedroom door was closed and Derek blushed at the thought of Stiles not being decent. With a slight tilt of his head, Derek learned that Stiles wasn’t buck-naked but lying on his bed listening to Scream-O music with headphones. He knocked a few times even though he knew Stiles couldn’t hear him then cracked the door open and called out his name before ultimately inviting himself in.

He gave himself a tour since Stiles still wasn’t responding. It seemed that, like Stiles, the room had gone through a major transformation. The only way Derek could describe this new décor was _“Punk-Goth Teenage Hell Dungeon.”_ The walls were all painted black with emo band posters, vinyl records, weird goth stuff, and depressing quotes _everywhere_.

Derek was rather enjoying reading a few of the depressing quotes. He resonated particularly with the one by Kurt Cobain that went, _“Nobody dies a virgin. Life fucks us all”_ when his exploring was cut short by Stiles’ ear piercing scream.

“Oh my god! You scared the shit out of me!” Stiles cried, clutching his heart as his chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. “What is wrong with you?!”

“I said your name. Twice.” Derek shrugged. “You weren’t listening.”

“That’s because _you_ never texted me to tell me you were outside!” he accused, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself down. “Did you talk to my Dad?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, only half-listening as he read more quotes.

“Christ! I’ll never hear the end of this!” He threw his hands up in the air and scowled when he saw Derek still inspecting his stuff. “Would you sit down!”

Derek dropped his backpack on the floor and took a seat on the bed.

“At my desk!” Stiles shrieked, getting unbelievably flustered.

Derek was a flexible guy and had no problem moving his stuff over to the desk. He picked up a pile of papers to clear the space, amused when he saw that they were sketches of cute baby seals.

“Don’t touch anything!” Stiles squeaked, jumping off the bed.

“How can I work with all this stuff here?” Derek said innocently, struggling to contain his laughter because this was all _so_ Stiles.

Stiles’ face was flaming red as he darted over and snatched the sketches out of Derek’s hands, stuffing them in a random drawer. Derek turned his attention to laying out his materials when something caught his eye. He paused and examined it for a moment, his heart hurting in his chest.

After that first day, he’d met Stiles, the one where Stiles had rescued Derek and drawn him a picture of a wolf to cheer him up, Stiles had kept drawing things for Derek, always signing them _To: Derek Love Stiles_. Derek had gotten to witness Stiles’ improvement with every drawing and how far he’d come from drawing crude sketches of cross-eyed wolves.

The wolf Derek was looking at now was nothing short of magnificent. It was drawn with such care that Derek couldn’t help thinking that Stiles might have drawn it for him. And he was right. He looked at the top left corner where he would usually find Stiles’ dedication and saw that it had been torn off.

Had it really been that easy? Had all it taken for Stiles to forget about him, _to forget about what they’d been to each other_ , was to rip him up into shreds? Had he ripped up all their memories too? That thought was depressing as hell. Far more than the emo quotes.

"So...” Stiles cleared his throat, propping himself up against the desk.

“So…” Derek said back and put on a fake smile, still finding it difficult to shake off the hurt.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this project. How Ms. Morell wants us to leave a mark before graduation... how do you feel about designing a mural?”

“A mural?” Derek raised a brow.

“Yeah, you know. Like painting a wall.”

Derek gave him a flat look. “I know what a mural is, Stiles, thank you.”

“I already checked with the main office and they’re fine giving us a mural site in the art wing. It’s gonna be a lot of work, so like I said if you get too busy—”

“I’m not going to get too busy,” Derek cut him off firmly.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “Just, know that I’m fine doing this all by myself.”

“Noted,” Derek mumbled, flipping open his sketchbook. As if he needed any reminder of how much Stiles would’ve preferred doing this with anyone but him.

“The stuff you showed me this afternoon—”

“Sucks, I know,” Derek winced, having already anticipated this. “It’s nothing original and I’m not committed to those sketches anyway. I’m sure I can come up with something better. I was really hitting a wall this weekend and mind maps usually help me but—”

“ _You_ use mind maps?” Stiles snorted at that.

“—Nothing was working. This mural’s going to last a long time after it’s finished, so I want something we’ll both be happy with.”

“Are you done?” Stiles asked while Derek looked down at the floor downtrodden. “I was going to say that I liked the theme you were going for with the animals and stuff. I love animals. I think we should go in that direction.”

“Oh,” Derek lifted his eyes and snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. “Okay.”

Stiles sniggered and walked away. Derek couldn’t have felt like a bigger dork.

They worked in silence for the most part, much to Derek’s disappointment. Starting a conversation with Stiles was a lot harder than he remembered, and he was drawing a blank on good topics to start with. He didn’t want to say anything that would make Stiles hate him even more than he already did. He _needed_ to get this right.

Then again, maybe he was putting too much pressure on himself. He didn’t want to win Stiles back by being something he wasn’t. He wanted Stiles to fall in love with the person he was now. If that was even possible.

“No, Scott. I can’t come over. I’m doing this thing,” Stiles was saying into the phone. “No, you can’t come over. I just told you _I’m doing this thing_. No, we can’t go out because _I’m doing this thing_. I’m hanging up now because you’re _obviously_ not listening.”

Given that Derek knew exactly who Stiles was speaking to on the phone made it difficult for him not to be a little bit jealous. Werewolf possessiveness or not, Derek was sure _no one_ would want to hear their ex-best friend speaking so comfortably with their replacement right in front of them. He was sure Stiles’ new best friend was a fairly decent guy, but it was hard for him watching another person fill his place.

Scott McCall was mainly known for being the school’s biggest pothead. However, he was often recognized for his musical talents as well. He was the frontman of his band, _Wolf’s Bane_ , and there was always buzz that they were going places, though Derek had never checked them out himself. Scott had been Stiles’ closest friend since freshman year and while Derek didn’t blame Scott for anything that happened, he envied him. He envied him a lot.

Derek looked over to Stiles, rather curious about something he’d been thinking about for a while now. “Hey, where do you keep your stash with your Dad being here?”

This question had flabbergasted Derek for quite some time. Stiles’ dad _was_ the Sheriff. Could he really not know about his son’s…recreational activities?

“Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s buried deep in a ditch in the backyard where no one but me can find it.”

Derek didn’t need to hear his heartbeat to know that was a lie. His nose had sensed the plant in various parts of the room since he’d entered it and knew it had to be located somewhere nearby.

“No, it’s gotta be in here somewhere.”

“Good luck trying to find it.”

He made it a challenge for himself; to figure out just where Stiles could so cleverly be hiding his weed. He held his breath to limit his sense of smell as he scoured the room. Wherever it was, it was very well concealed from even the most thorough of inspections. Which was maybe why John hadn’t found anything even if he did have his own suspicions.

Stiles just smirked the entire time from his bed as he watched Derek peek into drawers and peer behind dressers. The whole thing probably would’ve been pretty infuriating if Derek hadn’t remembered something from when they were kids. A clue that no one else would know but him. And that wiped the smirk right off Stiles’ face.

“Fuck!” Stiles cursed and dropped his head in his hands when Derek slid open the hidden panel deep in the back of his closet and found just the contraband he’d been looking for. “I forgot you were the only other person I told about that place. Scott doesn’t even know.”

It shouldn’t have made Derek so happy and relieved that Scott didn’t know something about Stiles. But it did feel good knowing that Derek still had parts of Stiles that no one else had. Not even his so-called replacement.

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t rat you out.” Derek winked and returned the pot back to its hiding place.

The fun and games were over and they worked again in silence, though it wasn’t nearly as awkward this time. Derek wasn’t too worried. They’d get better at this. The more time they spent together, the easier it would be to go back to speaking like they used to.

They drew for about an hour or so. Derek had been sketching a few different animals but took his time now on this one sketch of a red fox. He was completely fixed on what he was doing, zeroing in on the fur, the canines, and eyes, desiring to make a picture that was as realistic as possible. His sisters would often tell him that he needed to pay attention to his surroundings while he did his art. He always got so lost in it, forgetting about everything else that was going on in the world around him. Which was why he hadn’t picked up on Stiles sneaking up behind him until he looked over his shoulder and got scared shitless.

“It’s only fair after the way you scared me,” Stiles said, snickering at the way Derek had jumped. He gasped then and leaned over to laud Derek’s work. “Fuck me, these look incredible!!”

Even though he’d said as much about Derek’s art this afternoon, minus the ‘fuck me’ comment, Derek hadn’t believed him. He thought Stiles might not have meant it and that he was just being nice. But now he could see that Stiles actually did like his art and wasn’t just saying things to be polite.

“Right now, I’m seeing you in action, but I still can’t believe these were drawn by you,” Stiles marveled, shaking his head. “I guess I kind of always wondered why you were in Ms. Morell’s class.”

Derek put his pencil down and asked, “Anything I can work on?”

After all, this was what Derek was most excited for in having Stiles as his partner. It was a great learning opportunity. Knowing what an amazing artist Stiles was, he valued his advice. As much as he’d learned from Ms. Morell, he knew there were still things he could learn from Stiles.

“Well,” Stiles said, teeth fiddling with his snakebite piercing. “I can tell you’ve gotten really comfortable with this style, which is a good thing for your confidence at least, but you don’t ever want to get _too_ comfortable.”

“What do you mean?” Derek’s forehead crinkled.

“Start taking some risks, dude. You’re really good Derek. Like I don’t think you know how good you are. Even your thumbnail sketches are so damn perfect. Which is a sign to me that you’re definitely not challenging yourself, probably because you’re too busy beating yourself up.”

Stiles was spot on, of course. Derek was incredibly hard on himself.

“Don’t waste so much of your time trying to get everything perfect,” Stiles advised. “Sometimes things we think are mistakes might even make things better.”

Derek was beginning to understand, “So you’re saying I’m too perfect?”

“Ugh. In so many ways,” Stiles muttered under his breath.

“What?” Derek asked, not sure if he’d heard correctly.

“Nothing,” Stiles said much too quickly and turned red and smelled of mortification. “We should get back to work.”

But before Stiles could walk away, Derek caught his right arm and admired his sleeve of tattoos. It was the first chance Derek had gotten to look at them closely.

“What’d your Dad have to say about these?” Derek asked, his thumb trailing lightly over the inked skin

“He basically threatened to kick me out of the house then decided there’s no stopping me.”

“I like this one.” Derek pointed to an image of a sacred oak tree on the inside of Stiles’ forearm.

The tree’s branches were sprawled across Stiles’ skin and possessed many intricate details. Stiles had to have sat for it for a long time. Derek totally wanted to get a tattoo but it was such a long and painful process for werewolves. He definitely wouldn’t have survived getting a sleeve.

Stiles stood there and let Derek examine the art, twisting his arm to show a tattoo of a deer that he had on his triceps. Derek’s fingers grazed that as well, fingertips trailing over the lines. He tried to tell himself that he was just looking at tattoos and that it wasn’t an excuse to touch Stiles, but he was enjoying it too much.

They both jumped when Stiles’ phone blared loudly from the bed. Stiles took his arm back and went to answer it. He rolled his eyes and mouth to Derek that it was Scott then went on again telling Scott for the second time why they couldn’t hang out. Derek listened in on the conversation, laughing a little as Stiles got more and more frustrated.

Tonight had gone a lot better than expected. Which made him think of doing something that was either very brave or very stupid. He waited until Stiles hung up on the phone with Scott and gathered much of his courage.

“Hey, since Friday’s senior cut day, I thought we could go back to the old place and draw.”

From the complete and total silence in the room, Derek could tell that he’d majorly fucked up. Stiles’ back was turned to him and it was completely stiff, his shoulders tense. He cringed internally as he waited for Stiles to say something, but nothing came.

“Stiles?” he prodded, a little worried that he might’ve mortally offended him somehow.

“Okay,” Stiles said finally and turned to Derek with a forced smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

Even with the smile, Derek could hear it in his voice. That in his voice, there was a deep sadness.

**Author's Note:**

> subscribe to my [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jadore_hale/profile) for more of my fics! follow my [tumblr](http://jadorehale.tumblr.com/) or my [twitter](http://twitter.com/jadore_hale/) for explicit post about porn and pizza. (this is totally false advertising)


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